


Cherry Blossom Ending

by wooriesbear



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Why Did I Write This?, chan says patience is virtue, its spring so its spring, protecc woojin at all cost uwu, transfer student!chan, woojin!centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wooriesbear/pseuds/wooriesbear
Summary: I hold hands with you, whom I loveAs we walk together on this unknown streetAs the spring wind blowsThe scattering cherry blossom petalsSpread out on this streetAs we walk together





	Cherry Blossom Ending

The soft strum of the guitar bounces off into the spring night, and he hears his own voice echoes along. The next lines of lyrics slips out naturally from the gap of his chapped lips as his eyes are looking nowhere but on his own fingers against his old steel guitar strings. But he still can make out a number of couples who littered around where he sat, swaying along with their intertwined hands to his singing. He contemplates, briefly. He can see people enjoying his singing, but he cannot describe his exact feelings about it. Or more or less, what he should actually feel. He has been singing for the longest time, but he is still not able to figure out how does he feel when people bobs their heads as they listen to him. The thoughts keep haunting him. In his wake and in his sleep. Especially when he just sits in his usual spot every night and strum the night away. He vaguely remembers the time he stood on a stage as prideful as any typical ten year old would be as he sang. That was when he first started singing. And the thunderous claps he received still rings in the back of his mind before he drift off to sleep at night.

Spring has been his favorite season ever since he was toothless. It is a given since he was born in spring, but the flowers are actually why he loved spring the most. And the soft night breeze greeting him with petals of cherry blossom fluttering around aimlessly is a whole other reason. He still sing, and for a second, realization dawns on him. Today too, he still doesn't know why he sings. He could not explain why he likes singing. A stark difference to how he described spring as his favorite season. His heart squeezes an inch, brows knitting for a split second before he proceeds with the next verse of lyrics resonating in the cool spring night. And again, his thoughts is suspended in the still night air, letting it linger there for another aeon as he focuses on the strings vibrating against the pads of his fingers. He knows for a fact that he continues singing throughout his school years, and even in university for the extra money. He usually uses them for a couple of extra hours in the PC room. But sometimes he made enough for an extra snack trip throughout the week. Maybe the prospect of money being involved is what making it difficult for him to figure out why he still sing now. Or it is just because he is too used of it. A routine that he could never get rid of.

He places his guitar down ever gently, appreciating the sparse mismatched echoes of clapping with a tiny nod of his head as he reaches for his bottle of water. He takes a couple of gulps, wiping the corner of his lips with the hem of his worn out hoodie. He fixes the cap on his head, giving an unsure smile to someone who sat directly in front of him a good distance away as they locked eyes. Clasping the neck of his guitar to hoist it up onto his lap again, he started strumming another set of chords, soft cheering coming from the tiny audience he has. And the thoughts returns. Tonight, unlike usual, he is not thinking of why he sings. He remembers the time he came across a couple of people dressed semi formally waiting around where he usually sit. And they stayed until he finished his whole set of songs, mostly ballads, to come up and talk to him. To say that he was not ecstatic is a blatant lie, but when he went home that night and gave the offer of being an idol trainee a thought, he shivered into his blanket. And just like that, he knows, he was not meant for that life. Another couple of offers did pop out once in a while, but he never find it in himself to give it a try. He keeps his usual spot, and sings there. For the past four springs, and more springs to come.

It was another long-awaited Friday night. College kids littering around in groups, apparently looking for a place to crash together and enjoy the rest of the day. And he sat there, a guitar in his lap as he strummed and sang. A group of boys and girls his age, looking a tad bit tipsy, sat around the area waving their hands like they were in some concert and he smiled at that. Thankful that he had company, aside from the fluttering mess of cherry blossoms in the air. He was halfway through his third song when the kids got up and left. He let his heart sank for three seconds before getting back into the song. And his mind was whirring with thoughts. Why is he singing when no one was listening? Is there any reason for him to sing? Would it make him feel better if anyone stayed? Does he like singing just because people applaud him after every song? And before he knew it, he finished the song with too much thoughts weighing down on his heart. Making him even more of a mess than he already was. He put down his guitar, taking a few urgent gulps of his half empty bottle. Another group of college kids sat down nearby. This group was more diverse, with the hair colors, he meant. One blonde stood out from the rest, but he was never that keen on looking closer at anyone who sat close by to where he sang. So he left his curiosity at that and get his guitar to pluck out the notes for his last song. He packed up that night and noticed, there was a little more than his usual more in the small pouch in his left hand. Lucky, he guessed.

The subsequent nights were as normal as it would be. After struggling to fight off his drooping eyelids in his marketing classes, he would drag his old guitar to his usual place. He frequented that spot, but he was not that crazy to camp out in the harshest winter day to strum his guitar. He loved sitting there especially in spring. When the weather is just nice. He was taking a halftime break when he noticed a familiar blonde sitting nearby. With a frappe in his hand, sipping from the green straw slowly. Maybe blonde is the it color for now. He thought to himself and hummed to another song, letting his voice reverberates through the calm spring night. Weirdly enough, he did not overthink when he play today. Which was a good news. At least he could escape from the torturing moment of contemplating why he still sings. And somehow, the blonde guy was still there. Eyes bright and trained on him as he pack up his stuffs. He could feel the gaze on him although he was trying his best to ignore it. He saw a hand putting down a note in his pouch, his eyes followed the length of the pale arm just to have his breath hitch at what he saw next. Those were the most mesmerizing smile he had ever seen.

Another week passed, and he was as dead as ever. His groupmates were being assholes and they were trying to get away with the assignment, dumping it all on him. He did not dwell on it, but he was a human before anything else. So it was only human of him to explode in anger and maybe flipped a table over as he left them be. And there he sat again. With his ever aging guitar and singing his frustration out. The flowers dangling from the branches above his head were loose, giving up on a petal every time the breeze eased its way around them. He wished he can give up that easily too. Dropping and just vanishing with the wind. And degrade. He missed a note, fumbling to get back to the next bar while trying to hide how messy he felt within. Maybe he'd finish today earlier. He's really not feeling it. "Woojin hyung!" A bright voice chirped and in a flash there were three high school kids in their pastel oversized hoodies circling around him. Woojin brightened up the slightest at the sight of the kids hoarding around him. He appreciated the fact that in these trying times, these kids were there to keep him alive for another day.  
It had been a solid two years since Woojin left the orphanage. And while he was there, he felt like he just had to make everyone feel at home. He remembered the first day Jisung was brought there. The kid was crying, snots getting everywhere on his face, and it was just Woojin-like to crouch down to his height and give him a hug. After that, Jisung could never really stray very far from Woojin. He ever mentioned that he felt like he was well-protected around the older. Woojin was glad he could make someone feel that way. Because he definitely did not experience being cared for in the longest time, even while being in the orphanage. Hyunjin on the other hand was not as teary as Jisung was when he first arrived. He was just silent, eyes darting everywhere in suspicion. And he would stay muted, and more often than not, skip his meals. If anyone was to go the extra mile, it would be Woojin. He sneaked down to the kitchen at midnight, fixing a simple meal and slipped into Hyunjin's room. The younger boy gave him the coldest gaze, but Woojin understood that more than anyone would. Because he had been there. After fifteen minutes of denying he was hungry, the loud rumble from his tummy gave him away way too embarrassingly so Hyunjin just sat at his study table and ate the food. And Woojin could not forget the delight in the younger's face, even though it was a simple instant noodles with extra eggs. Seungmin was a whole other story. He was sad, but he tried to hide it so much that it hurt Woojin too. The half smiles that Woojin never missed, and the longing eyes he had whenever he saw a couple of his friends walk away hand in hand with their new parents. Woojin felt for him. Because, again, he had been there. It was one of those coldest winter night, and Woojin noticed Seungmin was not in his bed. Call it a brotherly instinct, he guess, he went down to the living room and there Seungmin was, basked in the soft moonlight flooding through the huge glass doors. So he took the guitar that was lying there and settled beside the boy who was hugging his knees. He played a couple tunes, humming the lyrics softly. Seungmin stared at him once he was done. "It's okay to not be okay, Seungmin." And Seungmin just lurched forward into Woojin's chest, crying his heart out. Woojin could feel his eyes sting but he held the tears back, like he always did.

And maybe, that was why Woojin is still trying to get by. No matter how hard his day would be, no matter how miniscule of an amount he found in his pouch, he would still try to get by. Because if not everyone, there will at least be three people whom he know would love him for everything he is. And maybe he kept singing because he want to at least make the world feel at ease. As much as he wanted to feel at ease himself. The kids rambled about school and everything, and how much things got better in the orphanage because they were the oldest now, lowkey boasting about themselves, and Woojin just smiled at every little thing they were animatedly talking about. He was glad they were able to live as normal as every other kid their age would be living. And all the negatives he was feeling dissipated, just like that. The kids stayed for another good three songs before pardoning themselves, leaving Woojin with a can of coke, one pack of chocolate pie and jellies. That was so them. Woojin smiled to himself. Maybe living wasn't too bad. He packed up for the day, counting the notes he found in his pouch and maybe luck was on his side. He could afford an extra snack trip this week.

Woojin never really told anyone about him having lived in an orphanage. So when Minho was pressing him about the matter, he just shrugged, not really feeling like it was something too crucial to be upset about. He was lucky the orphanage is still helping him with the school fees, and sometimes his monthly expenses too. But he did pick up part times aside from singing. He stared into Minho's red eyes blankly, apparently confused as to why the younger guy was sniffling. "It's… Nothing to cry about Minho." He said and Minho ended up crying even harder at that. His life was not tragic. Not to him, at least. He was left with his neighbor when his parents went to his brother's graduation. Having promised that they would fetch him for dinner but even past midnight, they were not there. Ten year old Woojin did not know better until the calmer of the couple sat him down after lunch, and slowly telling him about the accident claiming his family's lives. Woojin was frozen on the breakfast stool, trying to process the information. And when he did, his cry echoed off the walls until he fell asleep that night. After the funeral, things were not on Woojin's side. His neighbor had to leave, because before anything they had planned to migrate to another country. That left him with one choice, and his neighbor was nice enough to send him off to the orphanage with glassy eyes. They promised to come and see him whenever they were in town. But Woojin never saw them again ever since.

But whatever he went through for the past 20 years of his life did not turn him out to be someone short of an angel. The orphanage, Jisung, Hyunjin and Seungmin, all taught him to be kind. To cater to people in need. Maybe that was why Minho never expected him to be an orphan. He was too normal, almost. Except for the nights he would lay in bed and wonder why is he still living, or trying to figure out why he still sing and bits of self-depreciating thoughts here and there. After he finished high school, Minho still visit him sometimes in college. The younger now joining a dance crew and actively participating in competitions and such, making a name for himself. Woojin is proud of him. And Woojin was never unsupportive of anything the younger aimed for, except for one. It was a calm autumn evening when Minho took the time off from practicing to hang out with Woojin. Insisting that they celebrate Woojin's midterm results. They were a little tipsy from the cheap beer and Woojin was munching on a chicken leg when he felt Minho's lips against his cheek. "I like you. I like you ever since high school, hyung." And Woojin froze, just like he did when he was ten. It was a foreign concept for him. To have someone, or anyone caring deeply about him. He was not used to it, and he never thought of trying to let that happen. He brushed that episode off, blaming the alcohol in Minho's system and the latter seemed to get the idea. The next autumn they hung out together, Minho was already dating Jisung. And Woojin could not be happier about how things turned out.

"Hey." A raspy voice greeted, having Woojin looking up from his guitar bag. It was the familiar blonde. Woojin was positive he had seen him more than a dozen times these past months, and not to say Woojin hated that. He actually quite like it.

"Oh, hi." He answered plainly, zipping his bag and hoisting it up on his right shoulder. He raised the end of his brow slightly in a silent questioning gaze because he did not trust his voice at the moment, and hoping his message get through because, man, was the blonde good looking. He is.

"I love your voice!" The blonde chirped a little too enthusiastically that Woojin almost flinched. He nodded to that, trying to hide the subtle pink dusting the apple of his cheeks. "Thank you. I think I might've seen you a couple of times." He mumbled, now tucking a hand into his pocket, a defensive move of trying to not lengthen the conversation. And that had the blonde blushing, to Woojin's amusement.

"Well, yeah. I might have come around a little too often to hear you sing." He admitted and Woojin was kind of surprised with how forward he was. And it was a good kind of surprise. Because Woojin is guessing that the blonde was also the reason he had been having more extra snack trips the past month. "Thank you so much. Unfortunately, I have to go now. See you?" Woojin noted the subtle frown in the blonde's expression, he almost cooed out loud. "I'm Woojin. What's your name?" He added, a little belatedly but the blonde did not seem to notice.

"I'm Chan. Nice to meet you, Woojin. I'll come and listen to you sing again!" It was almost endearing to see how Chan's expression changed within the few syllables that were being uttered. It made Woojin giddy. But he had been through disappointment for quite a number of times, so he never let himself put any hopes up. He waved back at Chan as he left, and for the first time in forever, he felt like he had a reason to sing. Because Chan was listening.

And the coming weeks were almost the best weeks of Woojin's life. Ever. Chan came every single night, sitting a good distance away. Not too close to make him uncomfortable, and not too far that Woojin would not notice he was there. But with that gorgeous blonde hair, it was hard to miss him. Chan would come with food, drinks, anything really, but always with something. At this point Woojin was trying to convince himself that Chan really came to listen to him sing, and not to see him. On his second thought, the latter would not be too bad too. Over time, Woojin noticed how erratic his heartbeat would be whenever Chan laughed at his lame jokes. And he also noticed he liked seeing Chan smile. The way his lips would curl, how his eyes squeezing cutely, and his strong nose crinkling in the most adorable way possible. It was crazy. But Woojin was not that sane to begin with. Not in this life, at least. Woojin thought he was in love with Chan. And for better or worse, he was fucked. For real.

"So you still study? And do part time? And still come here and sing?" Chan's voice was cheery, fitting the summer perfectly. Woojin nodded to his question, thinking that it would be good if they could get to know one another better, aside from some weird facts that Chan would spurt out whenever he was too excited. "Do your parents know?" The blonde in Chan's hair was fading, making him look a little too ethereal for Woojin's measly existence. "I'm an orphan." Woojin answered easily, crinkling his nose in an attempt to soothe the sorry out from Chan's expression. "I'M SO SORRY! I, I didn't know." Woojin laughed good naturedly, patting Chan's tensing shoulder. "Nah. That was more than ten years ago. I'm good." And Chan just nodded, and for the rest of the night, Woojin was not able to fully erase the sorry off of Chan's face.

It was mid-autumn when Woojin met Chan in a café instead where he usually sang. His phone lighting up at an incoming call and he answered, telling the person on the line where he was sitting. In a couple of minutes, Chan appeared in the coziest looking hoodie. And Woojin just want to cuddle him right there and then. Except that he did not. More to he could not, honestly. "It's getting way colder now. I'm not used to this." Chan laughed as he sat, leaning against his chair after he ordered his drink. Woojin smiled, knowing for a fact that Chan was a transfer student because of he had quite multiple awkward moments for his Korean pronunciation and he did mention it in passing once. "You should get used to it." Woojin teased, only to have Chan's face fell the slightest. "Yeah, I'd like to. But I'm going back soon." Chan's thick brows knitted together in worry, the corner of his lips downturned and Woojin could not decide which hurt him more. "How soon is your soon?" Woojin mumbled lowly, praying to any deity listening to at least give him some more time with Chan. He was so going to miss him crazy. "In two weeks, Woojin. I'm sorry I didn't let you know earlier." And Woojin brushed that off. Throwing some other things to talk about and ignoring how he could hear his heart shredding slowly into tiny pieces.

Chan texted him his flight details. And Woojin never replied. They never saw one another ever again after the café. Partly because Woojin was trying to brush it off. Like how he brushed Minho off that one time. Except that this time, he did feel something for Chan. He did feel like he had the whole zoo rampaging inside him when Chan was too close. Or whenever Chan hugged him out of sheer joy after winning a round of Mario Kart over Jisung. And he still felt that when Chan said he liked him in that very café. To which he responded with an apologetic smile, enough to make Chan understand. Woojin learned about kindness the whole of his stay at the orphanage. But no one ever thought him to be kind to himself. He always thought about everyone else, but himself. And this was one of the few instances he was not kind to himself. He was forcing himself to believe that Chan made a mistake. That he would not want to date someone a continent away who could also turn out to be a wreck. Chan could only like him because Chan had not seen every layer of him. And more than anything, he was afraid. Afraid if Chan would ever like him anymore if he knew everything.

Four springs passed. Woojin graduated, rather excellently and landed a stable job. Everything was fine. And he still sing at that very same spot. With a few subtle changes, like his new one year old acoustic guitar and he no longer place the pouch next to his guitar bag. He is just there to sing, and he smiles at everyone singing along. The kids also graduated from high school, halfway through college and they still bring him coke, chocolate pie and jellies. It never gets old. He does hang out with Minho sometimes, especially when he needed a drinking buddy whenever things are a little off with Jisung. "You're so good at advising everyone but yourself." Minho will keep repeating those in his tipsy rambles. The only thing Woojin is glad about that those occurrences are sparse. That is saying something about the couple and being the paternal friend he is, he only wants the best for them. He still gets texts from an unsaved oversea number. And he still never reply. Seungmin always reminds him to be careful of strangers, anyway. Nothing was really out of ordinary for the longest time, and Woojin likes it that way.

"I miss you."

Woojin stared at the text for an hour. Before finally letting out a strangled sigh and blinking away his tears. Like he always does. He misses Chan. So badly. He cannot even start putting it into words. When he first received the texts, he was so close to replying. Every single time. But he did not want Chan to put his hopes high. He did not want Chan to take it as a yes when he himself did not know if he could handle being that far from Chan. So he held back. Deleting the paragraphs long of reply he typed at two in the morning. It happened way too often. Chan might have gave up over time, with the lesser amount of texts he sent. Mainly he just told Woojin how his day went, like telling a good old friend. And that did not make Woojin feel any better. Woojin felt a lot like a whole asshole. Like the groupmates he had for the assignment. Chan deserved better. And that thought did not make him miss that certain blonde sweet looking boy any lesser.  
His voice flows in tune to the night breeze and the light pink floating around in the air. It is another spring, marking another year has passed. Woojin likes his job, likes the fact that Minho and Jisung are getting married soon, Hyunjin and Seungmin both are working adults and dating. The most important people for him are all doing well, and he is genuinely happy. He can never ask for anything more than that. He wraps up his last song, smiling at how people liked the Cherry Blossom Ending he played. He gives little bows to whoever remains and starting to pack up. With a guitar bag strapped on him, he turned around to find a very familiar face staring at him. Brown hair suits him better, in Woojin's opinion. And he hates to admit that he noticed his glassy eyes. And he could feel the sting on his own. For God's sake. Chan.

Chan does not spring up at Woojin to hug him, but Woojin understands. From everything Chan does, he is trying to tell him something. They are walking along the endless rows of cherry blossom, where at times Woojin could feel Chan's shoulder brushing against his. Woojin took a deep breath, halting his step and Chan turned around a few inches away from him. It takes every ounce of courage in Woojin to actually look into Chan's eyes. He has to let this out now. Or he knows he will never be able to.

"I like you. Since we first met."

The next thing Woojin feels is warmth against his own chest, two strong hands wrapping around him securely and soft hiccups being muffled by the fabric of his hoodie. On instinct, he leans down to press a kiss on top of Chan's head. "I'm sorry I took that long to figure myself out." Woojin mumbles, only to have Chan shaking his head underneath Woojin's chin. "It's worth it. But you have a lot to make up for." Chan replies almost shyly and Woojin may have noticed the faint pink on the tip of Chan's ears but he says nothing about it. "I will do anything for you, Chan. I love you." Woojin surprises himself, but there is no use in trying to lie to himself any longer. Chan is here, and for good, from what Woojin can understand. And Woojin is not afraid anymore. "I love you too, Woojin.".

The walk home is one of Woojin's favorite. The cherry blossoms fluttering around as if congratulating him, and his favorite person clutching on his hand tightly just to let him know none of this are products of his imagination. And now he has a whole rekindled reason to sing, even though he has always known his love for singing is what making he sing. All is finally well.

**Author's Note:**

> so before i vanish for exams, i just had to finish this one off since i started hahahahah


End file.
